


One Night at The Leaky Cauldron

by kci47



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, Drinking Games, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kci47/pseuds/kci47
Summary: The first-ever Hogwarts Alumni party allows everyone to relax and let loose. Hermione didn't come with the intent of finding a man…but then Neville walked in and all bets were off. // Written for Smutty_claus 2014 on lj. Hermione/Neville post-war





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glitter_pink](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=glitter_pink).



> Gift For: glitter_pink  
> Title: One Night at The Leaky Cauldron  
> Author: krissy_cits  
> Pairing: Hermione/Neville  
> Summary: The first-ever Hogwarts Alumni party allows everyone to relax and let loose. Hermione didn't come with the intent of finding a man…but then Neville walked in and all bets were off.   
> Rating: NC-17  
> Length: 8,500ish  
> Warnings: Just a teeny little bit of exhibitionism.   
> Author's notes: Many, many thanks to the wonderful KT for her amazing beta work! glitter_pink, I hope you enjoy.

The Leaky Cauldron was uncharacteristically bright when Hermione and Ron entered. Fairies dipped and twirled around the multiple stately pine trees, and candles lined the rafters, lending a warm glow to the wooden tables that had been smoothed by years of use. Scents of Butterbeer, cinnamon, and pastries wafted their way, and Hermione inhaled deeply. She felt her whole body relax as they moved further into the bar—she was glad that Ginny had talked her into coming tonight.   
  
It was the first Christmas after the Final Battle, and The Leaky was hosting a Hogwarts alumni reunion party. At first, Hermione had feared it would be as pompous and depressing as all the Ministry-sponsored events had been, but Ginny swore this would be nothing like that, and she even agreed that if Hermione didn't have a good time then she would accompany Hermione to a museum outing—something the vivacious redhead abhorred. Once Harry and Ron began to cajole her, too, Hermione had caved. But now, looking around at the cheery decorations and the smiling faces of her former classmates, Hermione had to admit she was happy to be here.   
  
They spotted Harry and Ginny and made their way slowly over. The party had just started but already The Leaky was packed with people, and their progress was hindered by all the friends they stopped to chat with on the way. Luckily, Hermione reflected, her and Ron's break-up had been publicized most prominently in the _Daily Prophet_ , or else she'd have already had to tell the tale a dozen times. As annoying as it had been to have her business splashed all over the paper, at least it was saving her the effort now. They were still best of friends, of course; they'd just calmed down a few months post-war and realized they weren't suited as lovers. Ginny had even encouraged Hermione to wear something sexy tonight, and despite her better judgment, she'd let the future Mrs. Potter drag her around a posh Wizarding shopping district in France until they'd found the perfect dress. The black material was stretchy, short, and charmed to stay in place despite a complete lack of practical undergarments. Towering black heels, smoky eye make-up, and a bright statement necklace completed her look, and Hermione would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the appreciative stares she was receiving.  
  
She didn't intend to actually take anyone home, of course; that had been Ginny's suggestion, but the younger girl was so deliriously happy about her own upcoming nuptials that she wanted all her friends to feel the same bliss. Hermione smiled as she thought about how happy Harry was, too. He deserved for good things to finally come his way, and there was no denying that Ginny made him the happiest of all.   
  
They finally reached their friends, and Harry signaled Hannah Abbott to send over some more drinks. The Hufflepuff wiggled her eyebrows playfully at Hermione's get-up briefly before returning to her duties behind the bar. Under Hannah's competent hands, The Leaky had flourished, turning into a restaurant-and-bar that was far more welcoming—and clean—than it had been with Old Tom as the proprietor. Two Butterbeers zoomed over and Ron caught them, handing one to Hermione.   
  
"This place is already hopping!" he said loudly over the sounds of the party. "Think any professional Quidditch players will be here, Harry?"   
  
And just like that, the boys were lost to them for the time being. Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny before sliding onto a barstool and sipping her Butterbeer. "Mm, what is this?" she asked, tasting the unusual spiciness.  
  
"I think Hannah added some nutmeg and vanilla," Ginny explained, taking a long drink of her own. "You know, to be festive."  
  
"Well, she nailed it," Hermione said. The girls drank in companionable silence for a moment, both looking around the room to see who else was there. Hermione noticed that the Christmas trees each sported ornaments in the different House colors—an homage to inter-House unity, or whatever the Ministry had dubbed it. After the Final Battle, the Wizengamot had stepped in to claim much of the credit as was their wont. Those that mattered in the Wizarding community knew the real truth, however. At least Kingsley Shacklebolt had stepped into the role of Minister for Magic, and Hermione had faith that things were moving in the right direction at last. In fact, she was primed to work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as soon as she finished her NEWTs by correspondence. In the meantime, she was helping Ron and George get their administrative and financial affairs sorted at the shop. The twins had been brilliant when it came to inventions but rubbish when it came to ledgers.   
  
A loud cheer interrupted Hermione's thoughts, and she glanced up at the door as Neville Longbottom walked in. Cries of "Neville!" and "Commander!" rang out as the boy raised a hand in greeting. He was smiling broadly and Hermione was struck all over again by how much he'd changed since their time in school. Without the bruises and blood from the battle all over him, Hermione had been shocked initially at how different he appeared when she saw him again after the war. He'd grown several inches, thinned out, and even his teeth had seemed to finally match the proportions of his face. (Although, having been the recipient of magical dental work herself, Hermione recognized an artificially perfect alignment when she saw one.)  
  
Still, there had been no denying it when Neville had shown up for the first memorial service—he'd grown into quite the handsome bloke. As he strode into The Leaky to catcalls and applause, however, she amended her opinion. He was ruggedly, awkwardly, bloody good-looking. It was enough to make her feel entirely out of her element—if _Neville_ was that attractive, then what other previous truths that she held were now false? She felt her world begin to shift on its axis and she hurriedly gulped down some more Butterbeer.   
  
Then he tripped over one of the floor mats, and all was right with the world again.   
  
Exhaling deeply, Hermione reminded herself that this was Neville, her classmate. So what if he was dressed to the nines in a crisp button-down shirt, pressed khakis, and a jaunty crimson and gold bowtie? She had dolled herself up, as well, and she hardly expected anyone to fall at her feet in adoration. It had simply been a momentary reaction to his grand entrance. Yes, that was all.   
  
Ginny touched Hermione briefly on the arm, indicating they'd chat more later, before slipping off her stool and dodging through the crowd to say hello. Hermione watched as the younger girl launched herself into Neville's arms, giving the boy—man—a tight hug. Oddly enough, Hermione felt a stab of something like envy.   
  
"Oi, Harry, your fiancée's found someone else," Ron teased Harry good-naturedly.   
  
"Hmm," Harry said, eyeing the pair speculatively. "Nah. He's dashing, I'll give you that, but he's not as good with a broom," her friend finally concluded.   
  
"Oh? Is being skilled with your broom important to Ginny?" Hermione asked innocently. Ron started to snicker but Harry was still watching his soon-to-be wife. She added, "Does she care about the size of the broom, or is it more about how you use it?"   
  
Harry finally turned his head to stick his tongue out at her, and Hermione and Ron erupted into laughter. "Both, if you must know," Harry answered in as prim a tone as he could manage. "And I've about had it with you two maligning my broom," he finished, setting his empty tankard on the bar.   
  
"Aw, Harry, it's alright," Hannah said as she appeared to grab the glass. "Lots of boys find out their broomsticks aren't enough when Neville's around." She winked at Hermione and the two girls chuckled. Harry shook his head and threaded his way through the crowd to retrieve Ginny. "Can I get you two anything else right now?" Hannah asked.   
  
"Another Butterbeer for both of us, I think," Ron answered. Hannah nodded and Summoned two more.  
  
"Your version is delicious, by the way!" Hermione told the blonde.   
  
"Thank you," Hannah replied, smiling proudly. "It took a lot of iterations to get the proportions right, but I'm thinking about brewing and selling it officially right here at The Leaky. Muggles have been building more and more of these places called micro-breweries, and they've been quite successful—"  
  
"Oi, don't get her started," a familiar voice said from behind them. Hermione and Ron turned to find Neville himself standing there, grinning happily at Hannah. "She'll talk projections and expenditures versus sales all night long if you let her."   
  
Hannah crinkled her nose at him and moved off down the bar to serve the others. "Neville, how are you?" Ron asked, slapping Neville on the shoulder with one hand and extending the other to shake. "Made quite an entrance, you know."  
  
Neville's cheeks flushed just the littlest bit. "Gran says I was clumsy as a baby, too. Just how I am, I guess!"   
  
"I'm sure Ron was referring to the cheering," Hermione interjected, smiling. Neville returned her smile and leaned in to hug her as she held out her hand. Seeing him, she started to retract her hand and reach for a hug right as he held out his own hand. They laughed and then hugged awkwardly, all shoulders and hands not sure where to land. "It's lovely to see you," Hermione babbled to distract them both from the weirdness.  
  
"You, too," he replied, straightening and taking in her whole outfit. "You look great."   
  
"Oh, that's all Ginny's doing!" Hermione flushed, pleased with the compliment but unsure how to handle it. "You look amazing, too. I mean, you always did, of course, I wasn't trying to imply otherwise, it's just that the bow tie really gives you this sexy professor vibe—" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from embarrassing herself any more.   
  
Neville laughed, a rich sound that reverberated down Hermione's body. "Sexy professor, eh? I admit I like the sound of that." He smiled broadly at her and Hermione dropped her hand to smile back.   
  
"Sorry. I'm just a little out of sorts tonight." She gulped the rest of her Butterbeer and wondered what the hell was wrong with her.   
  
"I like it," Neville said, leaning over the bar to grab them both another bottle of Butterbeer. "You're different than you were in school. More mellow."   
  
"Yeah, well, living in a tent for a year will do that to a girl," Hermione answered flippantly. Then she glanced down at the floor, unwilling to bring dark memories from last year into this evening of celebration. Looking back up, she blurted out, "You're different too, you know. More confident. A little bit dangerous, even."   
  
Neville handed her a bottle and locked eyes with her, suddenly serious. "Living with the Carrows will do that to a person," he replied. Then he seemed to shake himself, and the good humor was back. "But enough about that. I reckon you and I could depress everybody in here with sordid tales, but it's in the past. Tell me what you're up to these days—I know you're doing NEWTs by correspondence but only because McGonagall complains every day that she misses her star pupil."  
  
"She doesn't!" Hermione gasped, slightly horrified.  
  
"Maybe only once a week," Neville relented, winking at her before taking a long pull on his bottle. Hermione's reply was lost in a haze as she watched his Adam's apple work. Then she pinched her thigh through her dress to snap herself out of it.   
  
"How embarrassing." Hermione racked her brain for something witty and clever to say, but in the end, she decided to just talk plainly. "After NEWTs I'm going to work for the Ministry, where I will probably lose my soul by age thirty. You know, the usual." She softened her words with a smile and gestured to Neville. "What about you? How is it being a professor?"   
  
"It's been tough, I'll admit, because the castle's still being repaired in places and I can't turn a corner without having some kind of flashback." Neville glanced down at his hands while he spoke and Hermione's gaze followed unconsciously. The assortment of nicks and scars fascinated her. "But it's good to see the kids loosening up again. There's laughter in the halls. And working with the plants—I've always loved it, but especially now, they're reminding me that life goes on."   
  
Hermione nodded, awed by his deeply philosophical musings. This was a whole new side of Neville and she was intrigued. "And Hannah?"   
  
Neville flashed her a grin. "I'm available, if that's what you're asking."  
  
"Oh! No, I was just—I mean, not that you're not attractive, you obviously are; I only meant to..."   
  
"I'm kidding, Hermione," Neville laughed. "You're cute when you blush though."   
  
At his words, Hermione felt her blush turn into a full-on red face. Neville had turned his head to look down the bar at Hannah as she talked with some of her former classmates. When he spoke again, it was with a genuine tenderness that had Hermione feeling jealous.   
  
"Hannah and I called it quits a couple of months ago. The long-distance thing just wasn't working out, and our schedules are pretty well opposites. We love each other but it was just too much to overcome. Besides, once all the fires died down after the war, it turned out ours kind of had too."  
  
Hermione nodded. This, she understood completely. "You've already read all about my 'spectacular' break-up with Ron, I'm sure," she drawled, "but it was kind of the same thing. Once we knew the other wasn't going to die at any moment, the passion sort of...fizzled."   
  
Neville turned his gaze back to her, assessing. "Wouldn't have pegged you for someone who was taken by passion," he admitted.  
  
Now Hermione tossed him a grin. "You'd be surprised," she practically purred, surprised at herself. Was she _flirting_ with Neville? Merlin. She needed to get out more. She hurriedly finished her Butterbeer before squeezing Neville's arm. His very nice, very muscled arm... _Down, girl!_ "Speaking of Ron. I better go make sure he and Harry aren't causing too much trouble."   
  
"Sure. Catch you later." Neville saluted her and Hermione made her way through the crowd, looking for her friends. But her mind was still on Hogwarts' newest professor. 

* * *

  
An hour later, the crowd inside The Leaky had swelled even more, and the boisterous chatter competed with the festive music played by the band to create a loud cacophony of merriment. True to her word, Hermione had rescued Ron and Harry from a drunken display of their flying tricks and convinced them to at least eat something before they mounted a broomstick again. But the flushed, happy faces of her friends made it hard to scold them much. After that, Hermione had gotten caught up in a conversation with Luna and Ginny. Now, to her surprise, she realized that she and Luna had been talking for at least the past quarter hour—without Ginny. The redhead was nowhere to be seen, which probably meant she was in a corner snogging The Boy Who Lived. And Hermione was pleasantly content with her one-on-one with Luna.   
  
"May I ask you something?" the blonde girl asked her now.  
  
"Of course, Luna," Hermione replied, although her senses immediately went on alert. This could be _anything_.   
  
"Do you have any advice for dating a Weasley?"  
  
"I—what?" Hermione felt her eyes nearly bug out, but she shook herself and tried to find her composure. "Um, they're usually more manageable if you feed them," she said inanely.   
  
Luna nodded as though that made perfect sense, then hugged Hermione and wandered off. Still bemused, it took Hermione a moment to register that Ron was standing nearby, asking her something.   
  
"—dance with me?" he asked again, leaning so he was directly in her line of vision. He pointed to the center of the room, where people had gathered on a smooth parquet floor, swirling around to the band's upbeat waltz.   
  
"Oh, I don't know—" she began to protest.  
  
"Come on. We're happy and carefree, remember?" Ron's eyes crinkled as he smiled at her, and she acquiesced. Hermione accepted his outstretched hand, and Ron whirled her onto the dance floor. She felt her body relax into Ron's as his familiar scent washed over her, and Hermione laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He swirled her around a few more times before slowing them down to a simple sway...and then to basically standing in place...and then not moving at all.   
  
Hermione lifted her head and looked up at Ron, only to see that he was staring intently into a corner of the room. Hermione twisted around to see what had him so enthralled, and saw that it was none other than Lavender Brown. The pretty Gryffindor was standing against the far wall, nearly hidden amongst the shadows and looking very uncertain. Since she'd never seen Lavender do anything less than assuredly own the room before, the sight of her classmate withdrawn and self-conscious stabbed at her heart. Lavender was wearing a sophisticated ruby-red dress, and even though her hair partly covered her face and neck, Hermione could still see some of Greyback's claw scars peeking out.   
  
"Go talk to her," Hermione murmured to Ron. Jerking, he glanced down, apparently surprised to discover he was still dancing with Hermione.   
  
"Nah, she probably doesn't want to talk to me..." Ron said, sounding a bit sad.   
  
"Of course she does. You're a big-time hero, you know," Hermione teased. Ron's brow furrowed and Hermione turned serious. She dropped her hands from his shoulders and stepped back. "She's scarred, not ruined. She just needs a little bit of attention to get her self-esteem back into gear." At least, Hermione hoped so. As uncomfortable as their history was, she hated to see Lavender looking so distressed. She shoved his back. "Go, Ron."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right, Hermione," Ron mumbled, already striding away. Hermione watched him go, but then a voice behind her caught her attention.   
  
"Can I cut in?" Neville sketched a mock bow and held out his hand.  
  
Hermione laughed. "I don't think you have to ask if the woman's partner is already gone," she pointed out.   
  
Neville smiled as he reached for her and Hermione's stomach fluttered. "All the better for me, then," he returned, placing his other hand on her hip and drawing her closer. The flutters escalated to full-on grasshoppers, all banging around madly in her chest.   
  
He danced her across the floor, apparently content not to talk. Hermione, afraid she'd blurt out something else humiliating, kept quiet as well. As they completed one full loop, though, Hermione realized that Neville was busy silently counting out the beat so he wouldn't miss a step. When she smiled fully at him, he lost his place and stepped on her toes. Hermione relaxed: that was the Neville she knew. They continued spinning around the floor, dodging the other couples—just not always successfully.   
  
"So you think I'm attractive?" he asked as the song came to a close. Now it was Hermione's turn to lose her footing and step on his toes.   
  
"Um—"  
  
The band struck up a beautiful jazzy number, and Hermione's train of thought was lost as Neville snugged her closer and swayed gently with her to the music. He smelled like some expensive cologne, which seemed unusual for him, but beneath it she could make out the earthier scents of dirt and greenery. _Much_ more Neville Longbottom, and much more appealing, as well. She was just losing herself in the sensation of being held so tenderly by him when Susan Bones—well, Susan MacMillan, now—tapped her on the shoulder and asked to cut in. Hermione reluctantly released Neville and placated herself with the notion that Neville had released her fairly reluctantly, as well. She stood in the middle of the dance floor and watched as Susan danced away with _her_ partner. Damn it. She hated feeling left out.   
  
Glancing around, she realized she was the only solo participant on the dance floor, so she beat a hasty retreat. Hermione remembered then that she had some business to attend to while she was here tonight, and after asking a few people where Pansy Parkinson might be, she headed towards one of the spare bar counters along the far wall. After the war, Pansy and a few others had founded Slytherins for Change, a group that was busy working to break down some of the long-standing prejudice against their House. They'd had a fundraiser several weeks ago but Hermione hadn't been free to attend that night, and she wanted to give Pansy her donation in person.   
  
Then she realized she'd walked right past the bar counter, so she turned back. She remembered Pansy herself giving an impassioned interview to the _Daily Prophet_ , talking about the unfair treatment of Slytherins during the final battle because of sweeping generalizations.   
  
Damn, she'd passed it _again_. This time she focused directly on the counter where Pansy was...even though the girl was still spouting Pureblood gospel, she'd argued that that didn't make them all _monsters_ , as the Gryffindors of the world were wont to believe. Hermione didn't love her attitude but she respected Pansy's—or any Slytherin's—right to their beliefs without unnecessary vilification. Especially for schoolchildren.  
  
" _Bloody fucking hell!_ " she hissed, glaring at the counter. Why did she keep forgetting what she was doing?   
  
Then it hit her. Tapping her wand to her temple and focusing hard, Hermione finally approached Pansy where she was bent slightly over the counter.   
  
"Why such a strong Notice-Me-Not?" she asked the Slytherin girl, genuinely curious.   
  
"Hello, Hermione," Pansy sing-songed. "What do you need? I'm kind of busy!"   
  
Hermione frowned and stared at Pansy. Her face was flushed and she was rocking slightly back and forth, arms and elbows braced on the scarred wood top. "Um, sorry. I just wanted to give you this in person..." Hermione dug the moleskin pouch out of her purse and offered it. "I'm sorry I couldn't make it a few weeks ago—"  
  
"Of course, of course, thank you!" Pansy grabbed the pouch and tossed it over her shoulder, not bothering to look where it landed. "If that's all—?"   
  
"Er..."  
  
"Go away, Granger," a disembodied voice ordered her.   
  
"Draco?" Hermione glanced behind her, but she didn't see Malfoy anywhere. Then Pansy giggled and Hermione returned her attention to the girl. Then her eyes widened as she took in Pansy's slightly disheveled appearance and her unsteady breathing. "Oh my gods, are you having Disillusioned sex?" She backed up several steps, suddenly feeling dirty. No wonder Pansy hadn't wanted to talk.   
  
"Again, go away," came Draco's voice, sounding distinctly more amused. "Unless you want to keep watching, in which case go ahead. And feel free to touch yourself, too."  
  
"Urgh!" Hermione threw a hand up over her eyes, blushing furiously. But her ever-present curiosity won out and she squinted through her fingers at Pansy. "Does it still—I mean—does that _work_?"   
  
Pansy leaned even more forward on the bar, grinning at Hermione. "You have _no_ idea how well!" she stage-whispered, laughing hysterically when Hermione backed up even more.   
  
"Um, okay, well, I'll see you..." But she couldn't even finish the sentence, because she was fairly certain she'd never be able to look either person in the face again.   
  
"Ta-ta!" Pansy called, waggling her fingers in a wave. Hermione turned and sped away, wondering if she could Obliviate herself of the last few minutes. 

* * *

  
Thankfully, the form of a distraction had come from none other than Lavender Brown. Ron had apparently done an excellent job of drawing her out of her hesitant shell, because when the pair had approached Hermione, Lavender had enveloped her in a hug and prattled on about forgiveness and water under the bridge and was that dress a genuine Pierre Dubois? Hermione looked to Ron for explanation, but he'd only shrugged and smiled sappily at Lavender. Eventually Lavender had rounded up quite a few of their classmates, insisting they all sit down and catch up. Seeing as Hermione had very recently "caught up" with Draco and Pansy, she blushed furiously when the pair of Slytherins sat down, but then the conversation turned to what people had been up to since the battle and Hermione was able to push that memory to the back of her mind. She chatted with Seamus and Ernie, occasionally setting Ron or Harry straight as they bragged of various deeds—both real and imagined—to Hannah, Luna, and Pansy. Neville and Ginny soon joined them, filling their table.  
  
"Let's play Ascendio!" Lavender suggested, a spark of her former vibrancy roaring back to life. The others quickly agreed and Ron bounded off to the bar, leaving only Hermione and Harry, looking confused.   
  
"How do you play?" Hermione finally ventured.   
  
"Oh! It's a Wizarding drinking game," Lavender explained. "Everyone gets seven tumblers of Firewhisky to start. Then we go around the circle, each making a revealing statement, and everyone who's done that thing has to take one drink. The first person to stack all seven empty glasses is the winner."   
  
"The winner and the drunkest," Pansy added. She and Lavender exchanged conspiratorial smiles. Pansy went on, "Here's an example, Granger. If I say, 'I never fucked a professor,' then I light my wand green. Anyone who's slept with a professor lights theirs purple and takes a drink. Purple if you did, green if you didn't."   
  
Hermione tried not to gape at Pansy's particular example as her mind immediately began running through the list of Hogwarts professors under the age of sixty. Meanwhile, Harry shrugged and glanced at Hermione. "Count me in."   
  
Hermione worried her bottom lip. It sounded exactly like the kind of ridiculous, irresponsible endeavor that she would normally look down upon people for participating in. It sounded like the kind of silly, childish one-upmanship that a bookworm like her could never hope to compete in. It sounded like a surefire way to get completely, utterly pissed, all while learning things about her friends that she might rather not know.   
  
It sounded exactly like what she needed for tonight.   
  
Then she caught Neville's eye, and his amused wink caused her stomach to flutter in an unfamiliar but not unpleasant way that sealed the deal.   
  
"Alright, I'm in," she conceded as Ron returned to the table, levitating the many glasses and four bottles of Ogden's Finest behind him.   
  
"Oi, someone call the author of _Hogwarts, A History_! Hermione's going to drink liquor _and_ play a game!" Ron smiled at her to take the sting out of his words and Hermione responded by sticking her tongue out at him. Acting her age, for once, was already making her feel freer than she had in a long time.   
  
"Right then!" A swish of Lavender's wand flew seven glasses to each person at the table, followed by another swish and flick before their glasses were filled with Firewhisky. Hermione steeled herself for what was to come—she could only hope that Pansy's example was meant to be shocking, not a true indication of the kind of revelations that would occur shortly. Lavender clapped her hands together and sat at the edge of her chair. "I'll start, shall I?"   
  
Hermione couldn't help but smile at the girl's excitement. Maybe they _all_ needed this feeling of normalcy. Maybe it would help put some of their demons of the past to bed. Just as Hermione was feeling very much in charity with this game, Lavender threw out her challenge.   
  
"I have tattoos in naughty places," Lavender sing-songed, lighting her wand purple. Hermione barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes before lighting her own wand green. She watched Harry and Ron light theirs green, as well, but everyone else seemed to be stalled.   
  
"Define 'naughty'," Draco drawled, causing Pansy to squeal with laughter.   
  
" _Your_ chest doesn't count," Pansy told him, poking him in the pectorals, "but _mine_ does!" Her wand flashed purple at the same time as Draco's turned green.   
  
"Anything a standard swimsuit would cover," Lavender decided.   
  
"That's me out, then!" Seamus chortled, turning his wand green. One by one, Ernie, Hannah, and Luna's wands also flashed green. Ginny shot an amused glance at Ron before her wand flared purple, and finally, Neville's turned purple as well—nearly as purple as his face.   
  
Hermione gaped at him as some of the others at the table gave him a good-natured hard time about the precise location of his tattoo.   
  
"It's still my DA one," he muttered defensively, "just...I had to put it somewhere that Gran would never see it."   
  
Everyone with a green wand took a drink, and Hermione coughed as the liquor burned its way down her throat. Grinning, Harry thumped her on the back, and even Draco raised his glass to her before draining it.   
  
"That was an easy one," Seamus stated, smacking the table with his open palm. "How about this—I never had sex outside the dormitories at school!"   
  
Hermione tried to keep her eyes in her skull as eight wands immediately lit purple. Only she, Ron, Luna, and Neville were green. Seamus laughed uproariously as Lavender shoved his shoulder. "Just spill all our secrets, will you?" she mock-chastised him. Seamus leaned over and tried to plant a kiss on her cheek, but she just giggled and dodged him.   
  
"Looks like we missed a lot of fun last year," Ron murmured in Hermione's ear. He clinked his tumbler against hers and she smiled gratefully at him. Yes, things certainly had been different last year when they were on the run, but for as much as her classmates acted carefree about it now, she knew that things at Hogwarts under the Carrows' reign had been anything but fun. "Here, I'll even things up a bit!" Ron straightened and addressed the table. "I have never had sexual dreams starring Ronald Bilius Weasley!"   
  
"Eww," Ginny groaned, pantomiming gagging herself with her wand, which she'd flipped to green immediately. Hermione snorted as Ron proudly turned his wand purple. She was tempted to change hers to green just to get under his skin, but she had already downed two Firewhiskys and she needed a break. Purple it was.   
  
Unsurprisingly, Lavender's wand was also purple. Extremely surprisingly, Pansy and _Ernie_ both had purple wands. Draco scowled at Pansy; the petite witch merely shrugged and offered no explanation. Ernie coughed and mumbled something about Quidditch players and it only having been one time. Ron looked a bit less sure of himself than he had earlier but everyone laughed it off and the game continued.   
  
After half an hour, everyone was much better acquainted, and quite a few of them were borderline sloshed. Hermione, Harry and Neville were the closest to done with only one tumbler of Firewhisky remaining apiece. Ron, Hannah, Draco, and Ernie each had two tumblers left; Luna and Ginny had three; and Lavender, Pansy, and Seamus had shown their true, adventurous colors by only having imbibed three of their glasses thus far.   
  
"As mushass I want to win this commetician," Hermione slurred, "I think you're all missing an imporrent queshion." She paused and surveyed the table as primly as she could manage. "I'm not a Virgo," she finally pronounced, feeling quite pleased with herself as she lit her wand purple. Bursts of laughter were her only answers and she frowned as she replayed her words in her head. It was tougher than usual—typically she had near-eidetic recall—but then she got it. "I mean a viiiiir-gin," she said slowly, carefully. She felt certain that, despite some of the acts revealed in the previous rounds, this would pitch at least one person closer to their seven glasses.   
  
Nearly the whole tableful of wands lit purple as well. Luna's was green—"I'm waiting for marriage," she offered dreamily—and Neville's remained extinguished. The alleged 'fearless leader' of the DA squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as all eyes turned to him. Staring determinedly at the ceiling, Neville finally turned his wand to purple.   
  
Exclamations broke out all around the table, and Seamus elbowed Hannah knowingly. Neville cleared his throat a few times and turned out the light on his wand before he dropped his gaze from the ceiling to the tabletop.  
  
The furor had just died down and Luna was taking her drink when Pansy murmured, "You're _welcome_ ," under her breath. Draco choked on his water, nearly unseating Pansy from his lap. She whacked him on the back, smirking. "It was before we were together, Malfoy."   
  
Neville's face flushed scarlet and Hannah's eyes widened. "That explains a lot," the Hufflepuff gasped. Hermione looked at Neville with a whole new perspective, wondering what else the Slytherin girl had initiated him into.  
  
In the end, Hermione and Neville finished their seven drinks together, and Lavender sloppily conjured some lopsided crowns for them to wear. Laughing, Hermione placed hers on Harry's head. Then Seamus banged a fist on the table and upended several drinks, earning him a scold from Hannah and the ire of Pansy, who'd gotten several of her drinks knocked over. Draco simply grabbed her up and hauled her to some shadowed alcove, though, and Hermione suspected that another Notice-Me-Not was being spelled into place.   
  
Their little party disbanded quickly after that, leaving Hermione, Ginny, and Harry talking to Luna for a bit before they drifted off, as well. Hermione staggered to the food table, eyeing the options carefully. She wanted something to absorb that alcohol. Eventually she piled some of everything onto her plate and found a table to herself. 

* * *

  
That was where Neville found her ten minutes later, halfway through her plate and feeling overstuffed.  
  
"Mind if I jump in there?" He gestured towards her dress.  
  
"I— _what_?" Hermione straightened, thinking the alcohol had affected her more than she realized, or else Neville Longbottom was straight-up coming onto her.   
  
He gave her an odd look. "The rest of that food. Can I join you?"   
  
Oh. Definitely the Firewhisky then. "Yes! Please! I can't eat another bite."   
  
He sat and they chatted amicably while he polished off the rest of her food. She did manage enough room for another large cinnamon bun from the dessert table. When there was a lull in the conversation, both of them sated and happy, Hermione decided to be bold.   
  
"I did mean you're attractive," she blurted out. When he only gazed at her, confused, she elaborated. "While we were dancing. I was saying that."   
  
A slow, somewhat predatory grin spread across his face at her words. She should have felt embarrassed by his focus, but all she felt was daring. And desirable. Hermione drummed her fingers on the tabletop, a little bit uninhibited. It was partly thanks to the Firewhisky, she knew, but that had been over an hour ago now. Still, she decided to just go with it.   
  
"Why is it that we never snogged back in school?" she asked, enjoying the rush of her reckless question.  
  
Neville's eyes widened a bit before a slow smirk bloomed. "Dunno. Seems remiss, now, doesn't it?"   
  
Hermione nodded. "Absolutely. That is..." She licked her lips and carefully considered what to say next. "You were some of my first experiences with—with a boy." And it was true. In the early years, Hermione often helped Neville with his Potions homework, trying to build his confidence before every class. She told herself it was because she couldn't stand to see him suffering, but a small part of her wanted him to stop losing points for Gryffindor, as well. As they'd grown, though, they'd become friends; Hermione had always felt safe to be herself around Neville and she'd thought he'd felt the same. They were relaxed when they met to study, practice dueling, or just sit quietly in the same space.   
  
Around fifth year, things had shifted subtly between them. There was an awareness there that they'd both did their best to ignore. They'd slipped exactly once: an illicit practice session in the Room of Requirement towards the end of their DA days. Neville knew the defensive spells, she knew he did, but he was hesitating. Probably out of some sense of chivalry. So Hermione had knocked Neville off his feet, hoping to instigate some real, actual dueling. He'd responded by knocking her flat on her ass, then running over to see if she was okay. When he'd held out a hand to her, she'd pulled him down, and he'd fallen on top of her. They'd been laughing until Hermione realized his hips were cradled in her own, and she saw the moment that Neville realized it, too. It had been such a forbidden feeling...and so delicious. But he'd scrambled up, blushing, and Umbridge had discovered their secret group before they'd had a chance to practice alone again.   
  
Neville cocked one eyebrow at her, drawing her out of her memories, and Hermione shifted in her seat, feeling her arousal rear its head and take note of the confident expression. "You're thinking very hard," Neville murmured, scooting his chair closer. "Tell me."   
  
"Just that it's interesting, watching the way people act around you now," Hermione said, covering what had actually been on her mind. "I mean, you say something, and about eight different people snap to it," she explained.   
  
He laughed, a deep sound that brought goosebumps to her flesh. "I was their commander," he said simply, and Hermione found that the image of Neville commanding _her_ to do something was inexplicably exciting.   
  
"So you like to be in charge?" she asked, her voice dropping. She scooted to the edge of her chair, barely brushing the leg of his pants with her own, bare calf.   
  
At that, his eyes darkened and his expression turned intent. "I prefer someone else being in charge, but I don't mind stepping up to...get the job done."   
  
Hermione was so absorbed by thoughts of Neville taking control that she didn't realize at first that he'd knocked his drink onto her lap. She knew she was wetter than she'd been in a while, but...then it registered that it was a _cold_ wet, not an aroused wet. Well, not entirely cold, anyway; there was a good deal of arousal going on, too.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Hermione!" He grabbed some napkins and thrust them at her, and she stared down at her lap blankly. When she didn’t make a move, Neville began to mop up the drink himself. When his hand touched her dress-clad thigh, she leapt up.   
  
"I, um, I'll just run to the loo and freshen up," she stammered. Once in the bathroom, Hermione cast a Drying Spell and then stared at herself in the mirror, assessing. Her eyes looked huge with the skilled shadowing Ginny'd done; there was a becoming flush on her cheeks and her lips looked lush and kissable.   
  
And Merlin's saggy y-fronts, _when_ had she last identified herself as kissable?   
  
Shaking her head, Hermione tried to blame the excellent spiced Butterbeer, but her buzz had worn down an hour ago. No, this feeling was pure, unadulterated anticipation, and it was all thanks to the gorgeous classmate that had just spilled his drink all over her.   
  
"I'm going to sleep with Neville," she said to her reflection, testing out the words. She broke out into a huge grin and her body thrummed.   
  
"Use protection, dear," the mirror answered, bored.   
  
Hermione plumped her breasts a few times and checked her hemline before exiting the bathroom—but she slammed into a wall.   
  
A bowtie-clad wall.   
  
"Alright?" Neville asked, steadying her.   
  
"Very," she agreed, looking up at his face. _I'm going to sleep with him_ , her brain reminded her, and she felt her knees give a little.   
  
Neville tugged her away from the loo, over to the darkened end of the hallway where extra chairs were stacked.   
  
"It couldn't be just any old kiss," she blurted out. "I mean, after all these years, we should do the thing proper, don't you think?"   
  
"Of course." He swept his eyes down her body as he stepped closer. "Why don't you tell me what you have in mind?"   
  
"Well, it couldn't just be a friendly peck, a light brush of lips to lips," she breathed. "After all this time…it would need to be a _real_ kiss..."   
  
"Mm-hm," he encouraged her, leaning ever closer.   
  
"I'd want you—to back me up to a door, or a wall, and—" she gasped for air as Neville did just that, "—and you'd have to _surround_ me, fill my vision—" Neville braced himself with one hand on the wall behind her head, bringing his body within inches of hers. "The best part is the anticipation," she whispered, licking her lips, "so I'd want you to give me plenty of time to know it's coming... Plenty of time to feel my whole body tingling..."   
  
He ran his other hand slowly up her arm, from wrist to shoulder, then ghosted it down her curves to rest on her hip. "Are you tingling yet?" he murmured as he bent his head.   
  
"Uh huh," Hermione agreed enthusiastically. Neville was rubbing small circles on her hip and she was about to explode from the anticipation. "You don't have to wait _too_ long," she told him.   
  
"Still bossy, I see," Neville teased her as he brought his mouth closer...and closer...and then landed his lips on her jaw, right where it met her neck. He took his time kissing his way down her neck to her collarbone, then back up. Hermione whimpered and clutched the front of his shirt with both hands, trying to bring his mouth to her own. Neville finally acquiesced and pressed his lips to hers, giving her just a moment of gentleness before tilting his head and taking control. He kissed her like a man on a mission: bent on devouring her. Hermione opened her mouth and slid her tongue against his, making them both moan. They snogged frantically for several minutes, hands roaming wildly over one another. Then Neville grabbed her hips and lifted her, spinning to pin her against the wall at the back of the hallway.   
  
She wrapped her legs around his waist and continued kissing him, practically purring when he slid his hands up to cup her bum. She could feel his erection pressing against her through his pants, and she wriggled excitedly. Neville growled as he disentangled their lips and moved to her neck, biting softly as he moved his mouth over her collarbone. Then he was reaching up to tug on the neckline of her dress, looking fiercely pleased when one of her breasts popped free. He bent to place more kisses on the curve of her breast, and Hermione threaded her hands into his hair. She'd had about enough of gentle, and guided his mouth to her nipple, crying out in ecstasy when he sucked the peak into the hot wetness of his mouth.   
  
Neville spent a long time licking and sucking her breast before finally freeing and repeating his actions on the other one. Hermione released her tight grip on his hair and did her best to undo as many of the buttons on his shirt as possible, but it was difficult with the bowtie in the way, and Neville wasn't cooperating. When she huffed in frustration, he lifted his head to grin at her. "Need some help?" he asked, grabbing his wand from his pocket and stabbing it quickly at the tie. It loosened itself and came to wrap around Hermione's wrists, dragging her hands up over her head and keeping them there.   
  
"What spell is _that_?" she gasped, feeling herself grow wetter still as she realized her hands were well and truly tied.   
  
"Little something I picked up," Neville said confidently, eying Hermione pinned against the wall. She felt all her blood rush to her clitoris and suddenly it was _imperative_ that he touch her there.   
  
"Neville, please," she whimpered, grinding herself against his erection as best she could. He reached between them and slipped a hand under her dress, gliding up between her legs. They both groaned when he brushed against the very wet strip of her thong, and then Neville was pulling it aside and rubbing her clit with a sure and steady pattern. Hermione was panting now but she managed, "Too fast—you'll make me—"  
  
"Come, Hermione," he ordered her in his DA commander voice, and Hermione obeyed immediately, burying her face in his neck as she screamed. He continued to stroke her, but gentler now as the force of her orgasm subsided. Once her eyes had uncrossed, Hermione lifted her head, gazing into his familiar face. But he looked different now than she'd ever seen him, with his lips red from kissing and his eyes lit with a sensual fire. For _her_.   
  
She nudged herself against his belt buckle, urging him to do more. Neville laughed and lowered her legs just long enough to unbuckle the belt and lower his zipper. Then he hoisted her against the wall once more, pressing his cock against her and rubbing in slow, tantalizing motions. Hermione yanked at the bowtie currently holding her hostage, but it wouldn't give. But then her excitement was dampened.   
  
"I don't have a condom," she said, sounding pathetic even to her own ears.   
  
"Your Muggle is showing," Neville joked as he reached for his wand again. This time he pointed it at her midsection. "Done. I put up a Silencing Charm, too." He started to put the wand back in his pocket, but he twisted just the wrong way and Hermione shifted, knocking them both sideways. To his credit, Neville only stumbled a little before grabbing her legs and lifting her back up again, releasing the tension on her arms—which were still quite firmly tied to the wall. "Sorry about that," he panted as he resituated them.   
  
Hermione giggled, glad that even though things were about to change quite drastically between the two of them, there were some things that would never change, like Neville's clumsiness. But she stopped laughing and became much more serious when the tip of his cock nudged into her vagina. She only had a moment to register the sensation, because as soon as her eyes met Neville's, he plunged the rest of the way into her. Hermione gasped as Neville withdrew nearly all the way before thrusting back in again. The imperfections in the wood at her back rubbed her as he continued to thrust, rocking her up and down and up again. She tightened her legs around his waist, urging him to go faster. Neville obliged, squeezing her thighs once before sliding his hands up to cup her ass. With his grip firm, Neville set them on a hard, fast rhythm that had Hermione's second orgasm building quickly.   
  
"Hurry, before someone comes back here!" she breathed, arching her back and offering her breasts to him. Neville bent his head and ran his tongue all over her tits, all the while maintaining a steady pace with his hips. "Oh, gods, Neville—"  
  
"Not yet," he gasped, pressing her more firmly into the wall as he sped up his thrusting. Hermione moaned, wanting to use her hands and nails to encourage him, but feeling deliciously under his command with her wrists tied above her head. She could feel her hair frizzing against her arms; the styling spells she'd used were no match for being grated back and forth across a wood wall. She dug her heels into Neville's back, tightening herself as best she could, hoping to catapult Neville to his own orgasm. He squeezed her bum rather forcefully, saying only, "Naughty," before he captured her lips with his own and plundered her mouth in time with his thrusts.   
  
Hermione kissed him back just as avidly, circling her hips the best she could. Neville was pistoning into her at a rapid pace now, a sheen of sweat on his face and chest. Hermione bit down lightly on his lip and finally, finally, Neville slammed into her a few hard times as he shifted one hand over to rub his thumb against her clit. Hermione cried out as she climaxed, locking her legs around him as he bucked a few more times before slumping against her. They remained in place, both breathing heavily, for several minutes, until Hermione realized she couldn't feel her arms anymore.  
  
"Neville," she whispered, nudging him with her shoulder. "Neville, my arms."   
  
Jerkily he grabbed his wand and pointed it at her wrists, and Hermione sighed with relief when her arms flopped down. She draped them over his shoulders and closed her eyes again, letting her head fall back against the wall. She wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, but eventually Neville released her legs and slid out of her. He kept his head on her shoulder, however.   
  
A loud round of applause from the main room brought them out of their stupor, and they both began to readjust their clothing. Hermione patted her hair, hoping to smooth it, but it was hopelessly done for. More than likely everyone would know what she'd been up to, but she found that she didn't much care. At the moment she was preoccupied with figuring out how soon they could do that again.   
  
"Do you have anyone else you need to see tonight?" Neville asked, trying to re-tie his bowtie and failing miserably.   
  
"No. You?"   
  
"Nope." He gave up on the bowtie and looked up at Hermione. "Fancy a go in a bed?"   
  
"Absolutely." Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and they Disapparated. 

* * *

  
"Luna, have you seen Hermione?" Ginny stopped at the table where Luna and George were seated, plopping her hands on her hips and looking around for the bushy-headed girl.   
  
"She left to have more wild sex with Neville," Luna responded serenely.   
  
Ginny's jaw dropped as she stared at Luna. "What—"  
  
"Oh, I thought you knew." Luna glanced briefly at Ginny before returning her attention to the bowl of Ice Mice in front of her. Then she held one out for George, who promptly ate it from her fingers and sucked the remaining sugar off her digits.   
  
"And what are you two—"  
  
"Wild sex as well," Luna interjected. George started laughing hysterically, and Luna smiled happily back at him. "At least I hope."   
  
Ginny could only shake her head and wander off to find her fiancé, wondering what on earth had been in the Butterbeer.


End file.
